“I do.” I manage to say the words aloud, firmly, not in the whisper that I was afraid they would come out as. I think I see a flicker of admiration in Luca’s eyes as I step up to stand in front of him, but I can’t be sure.
The Mass goes on for what feels like forever, the communion, the prayers, the Scripture, the words. I focus on the motions of it, remembering the kneeling and standing, when to face Luca and when to face Father Donahue, just to get me through. The less I think about what’s really happening, the better.
As Father Donahue begins to say the vows, I can barely focus on the words. Luca’s broad smooth hands grasp mine, holding me there, although not as tightly as I’d expected. I hear him repeatlove, cherish, honor, and it’s all I can do not to laugh. He plans to do none of those things, and I can’t help but wonder why it’smyvirginity that could make our marriage null, when every word that Luca is saying in this supposedly holy moment is a lie.
When it’s my turn, I can feel my pulse rising into my throat, threatening to choke me. “I, Sofia Natalia Ferretti, take you, Luca Antonio Romano, to be my husband.” The words come out calmly, evenly, and I don’t know how I’m even managing to say them aloud, let alone as if everything is fine. As if I want to be here, saying these vows. “I promise to be faithful to you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, to love and honor—”
I pause.Obey.I can’t bring myself to say it. I don’t want to obey him. I don’t want to belong to him—but last night I did. Last night my body arched towards him like a flower seeking the sun.That was lust, not love,I think.Not obedience.
Luca’s hands tighten around mine warningly. I can see the look in his eyes through the haze of the veil, telling me that I’m on thin ice right now. That I should choose my next words carefully.
Behind me, someone clears their throat. Don Rossi? A wave of cold fear washes over me, and I choke out the words, tripping over them in my haste. “—to love and honor and obey you, all the days of my life.”
Luca’s grip loosens, and as I look up at him, I see something like relief on his face.Is he really that glad that I’m going through with it?I wonder numbly.Does he really want me to live that badly?Why?
The rest of the ceremony goes by in a blur. I barely register Luca sliding my wedding band onto my finger, barely make it through my own remaining vows as I clumsily slide his gold band onto his. Before I know it, I hear Father Donahue telling Luca that he can kiss the bride, and as Luca reaches for the edge of my veil, I feel faint.
His hand brushes against the side of my face as he pushes the tulle over my head, sending it cascading over my hair, and then his palm is pressed against my cheek as he tilts my face upwards, his lips brushing over mine in a sweet, almost chaste kiss.
I can feel tears burning the backs of my eyelids.This is what it would be like if this were real. If he loved me. If I loved him.The kiss is gentle, the way you kiss someone you love, and my heart aches painfully as I savor it for just a second, knowing that it might be the only time for the rest of my life that anyone kisses me that way.
It’s a lie, but I let myself take a second’s pleasure in it, just the same.
And then we’re turning, facing the clapping audience in their pews, and I hear Father Donahue’s voice behind us.
“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Luca Romano!”
It’s done. The vows are said, the marriage is witnessed.
I’m Luca’s wife.
For as long as we both shall live.
Luca
I’m a married man.
Finally.
Not to the marriage itself, of course. I would have been very happy to spend all my days as a confirmed bachelor. But now that the deed is done, witnessed and signed and sealed, I can turn my attention to eliminating the immediate Bratva threat, sending them crawling back to their own territory, and then putting Sofia in a nice, luxurious apartment as far from me as possible.
I can forget about her. About what happened last night. About how fuckinggoodit was, how it turned me on more than any sex I’ve ever had, despite how little we actually did. Last night did nothing to satisfy my desire for her. If anything, it stoked the flames even higher.
Which is why I need her out of my sight as soon as possible, before I repeat what happened last night. Worse, before I lose all control together.
The reception is a grand affair, entirely put together by Caterina and Giulia Rossi. Sofia looks slightly forlorn as we walk in, and I turn towards her, forcing myself to look as pleasant as possible. “Neither of us is going to enjoy this,” I tell her flatly. “But at least try to not look as if you’re going to burst into tears.”
Sofia says nothing. Her face looks paler than normal. “Let’s just get this over with,” she murmurs, not meeting my eyes. “I won’t wander off this time.”
There’s a cutting edge to her voice that startles me, but I choose to ignore it. Instead I take her hand, which sits limply in mine, our fingers barely linked as we walk through the wide double doors into the reception hall.
It’s all gold and white, with expensive looking linens and chairs and china throughout the room, sprays of white and pink flowers on every possible surface, and our table at the front of it all. “The sweetheart table,” Sofia murmurs with a hint of sarcasm, following my eyes. For once, I agree with her attitude towards it.
Everything has been planned out to the most minute detail, and none of it feels personal to either of us, which seems fitting. I keep a pleasant smile on my face as we pass through the guests, and to my surprise Sofia does as well, but inwardly all I want is for this to be over. I’m already calculating the minutes until I can escape to the hotel.
Not that that’s going to be more relaxing, really. Sofia and I have to spend the night together, which means it’ll either be awkward as hell, or some variation of last night, where neither of us leaves entirely satisfied.
All of that, combined with my new undesired status as a husband, has me in a dark mood. But I didn’t get to where I am by not controlling my emotions, and so there’s not a person in the room who would realize it.